


Noel

by peacefulboo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bravenlarke Secret Santa, Holidays, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefulboo/pseuds/peacefulboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is hot when he's holding a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enoughtotemptme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enoughtotemptme/gifts).



> Written for the Bravenlarke Secret Santa exchange on tumblr. I had the privilege of writing for enoughtotemptme! Talk about intimidating. I hope you like it! 
> 
> Also, I did not technically write a birth scene for this so go me. Also, also, this technically is set in the future of my Bravenlarke fic [You and Me and You, Too](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2583278) but reading that is not necessary before reading this.
> 
> Happy Holidays y'all!

Octavia gives birth to Noelle Blake Lincoln the day before Christmas. Bellamy’s just glad he doesn’t have to catch this little girl as she makes her debut in the world the way he did for her mother. _This_ kid he meets after she’s been cleaned off and had a few hours with her mama, but he still has an uncharacteristic sense of awe when he holds her for the first time. 

“Well, shit,” Clarke whispers from the doorway of the hospital room. 

“Yup,” Raven replies, as she watches the scene unfold in front of her. 

“Not it!” they both whisper shout to each other. Clarke just mock glares at Raven for a few minutes before returning her attention to Octavia. 

The truth is? Neither one of them ever thought that having children would be in the cards for them, and despite the surge of oxytocin they get from watching Bellamy coo at the little girl, neither of them are likely to change their minds anytime soon. But they’d both be lying if they said it wasn’t a damn intriguing picture. 

Both of the women get a turn holding their new niece and this time it’s Bellamy’s who gets hit in the gut with hormones. Watching Raven, who is all natural grace and no-nonsense as she holds the baby in front of her and talks to her in Spanish without a hint of baby voice, has him picturing a future that he’s never dreamed of before. And when Clarke tentatively takes Noelle in her arms, wonder and joy in her eyes and just a hint of underlying nerves, and stares at her silently as if memorizing the slope of her nose and the marvel that is a newborn with a full set of eyelashes, his chest constricts just a little. 

It’s biology. It’s evolution. It’s beautiful people with beautiful babies during the holidays. It’s damn intriguing. And it’s not in their plans at all. 

They only stay a few more minutes. Octavia is tired and the baby needs to eat and get more acquainted with her parents. As they leave, Bellamy drops a kiss to Octavia’s head and tells her he’s proud of her one more time. 

“They look good with her, Bell,” she says with a teasing wink. 

He just rolls his eyes at her. “Yes they do.” 

***

 

They’re quiet when they get home. It’s late and it’s been a long week already. The house still smells like the anise and cinnamon from the biscochitos Raven was baking before they got called to the hospital, and Clarke’s old cd player is still playing her Christmas Mix CD from 2010 on repeat -- Bing crooning White Christmas. The Christmas tree is still lit - this year it’s decorated with only white lights and blue and silver ornaments. Next year it’ll be Raven’s turn to choose so it will probably be back to multi-colored lights and every color and style of ornament they can cram onto their 10 foot tree. 

They move through their bedtime routines, seamlessly flowing in and out of the bathroom to brush their teeth and take out their contacts, grabbing two day old pjs from behind pillows and one by one settling onto the bed. Bellamy takes up the middle, a stack of essays he needs to look over settled on his lap, his glasses perched on his nose as he reads through them. Then Clarke joins him, sitting up against the wall behind their bed, sketchbook in hand. Raven sprawls on Bellamy’s other side, also in glasses, her tablet propped up against her knees. 

It’s Raven who breaks the silence. 

“So we all felt that, right?” 

“Ugh. Yes. Why do you both have to look so damn attractive with a newborn in your hands? I don’t even like babies,” Clarke mumbles the last bit. 

“It’s the oxytocin. And the big eyes. It makes it so we don’t kill our young,” Bellamy replies. 

“How did something that comes out of a body covered in blood and goo smell so fucking amazing?” Raven asks in awe. 

“Also biology. Their smell does things to your brain to make you love them and not let them die.”

“But I don’t even like babies,” Clarke repeats softly, even as she does her level best to capture the way Noelle’s fingers curled up against her cheek as she slept. 

“You’d like our babies,” Bellamy tells her with a pointed look. 

“Probably. But I don’t know if that means I want to test the theory.” 

And there it is. They’ve never talked about kids, not explicitly. It’s just always been assumed that for now and for the foreseeable future, the three of them would not be having children. 

“We’d make pretty babies,” Raven admits. 

“We would,” Bellamy agrees. 

“Doesn’t mean I’d want to, though,” she adds. 

“Honestly? I’m not sure I want to either,” Bellamy concedes. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if either of you decided to have a kid. I doubt it’d be a deal breaker for me, but raising Octavia was hard as fuck. Doing that for a full eighteen years or more sounds exhausting. And only sort of in a good way.” 

“Okay. I’m done thinking about this now,” Clarke states as she sets her sketchbook on the night stand.

“Yes. Please. Let’s stop thinking about rugrats,” Raven agrees.

Bellamy stacks the essays into a pile and reaches over Raven to put them on the nightstand on her side of the bed. He hovers over her for a second before dipping his head down for a quick kiss. He settles back onto his pillows and watches as Raven and Clarke lean over him for a goodnight kiss of their own, and he doesn’t even try and suppress a soft smile. Clarke settles down at his side and presses her lips against his neck and then sighs as she curls into him. 

“I’m gonna be so pissed if I dream about babies,” she says against his shoulder. 

He rolls his eyes and drops a kiss on the crown of her head. Raven just snorts and snuggles deeper into his side, tucking her feet under his calves. 

None of them dream of babies that night. Instead they dream of each other and belonging and, okay, Clarke dreams about sentient Christmas Tree that follows her around singing a pleasant and not at all out of place version of Good King Wenceslas, because in dreams everything is normal. 

When they wake on Christmas morning, it’s already late morning but they’re not in any hurry to get out of bed. Raven tries to picture a little one sneaking into their room early in the morning and finds that she can’t. Not really. When she pictures future Christmases, she pictures Clarke and Bellamy and sleeping in. She pictures the three of them on the couch watching Die Hard while drinking coffee and eating cookies and tamales like they’re going to do later on today. Nothing is missing. They’re together and that’s all that she needs. 

It's all any of them need.


End file.
